ed forth, he carried a smoking tumbler of whiskey punch, which he
continued to stir with a spoon. As he approached the coach-door he tapped
gently with his knuckles; upon which the reverend prelate of Maronia, or
Mesopotamia, I forget which, inquired what he wanted.

"I ask your pardon, gentlemen," said Billy, "but I thought I'd make bold to
ask you to take something warm this cold day."

"Many thanks, my good friend; but we never do," said a bland voice from
within.

"I understand," said Billy, with a sly wink; "but there are circumstances
now and then,--and one might for the honor of the cause, you know. Just put
it to your lips, won't you?"

"Excuse me," said a very rosy-cheeked little prelate, "but nothing stronger
than water--"

"Botheration," thought Billy, as he regarded the speaker's nose. "But I
thought," said he, aloud, "that you would not refuse this."

Here he made a peculiar manifestation in the air, which, whatever respect
and reverence it might carry to the honest brethren of 13,476, seemed only
to increase the wonder and astonishment of the bishops.

"What does he mean?" said one.

"Is he mad?" said another.

"Tear and ages," said Mr. Crow, getting quite impatient at the slowness of
his friends' perception,--"tear and ages, I'm one of yourselves."

"One of us," said the three in chorus,--"one of us?"

"Ay, to be sure," here he took a long pull at the punch,--"to be sure I am;
here's 'No surrender,' your souls! whoop--" a loud yell accompanying the
toast as he drank it.

"Do you mean to insult us?" said Father P------. "Guard, take the fellow."

"Are we to be outraged in this manner?" chorussed the priests.

"'July the 1st, in Oldbridge town,'" sang Billy, "and here it is, 'The
glorious, pious, and immortal memory of the great and good--'"

"Guard! Where is the guard?"

"'And good King William, that saved us from Popery--'"

"Coachman! Guard!" screamed Father ------.

"'Brass money--'"

"Policeman! policeman!" shouted the priests.

"'Brass money and wooden shoes;' devil may care who hears me!" said Billy,
who, supposing that the three Mr. Trenches were skulking the avowal of
their principles, resolved to assert the pre-eminence of the great cause
single-handed and alone.

[Illustration: MR. CROW WELL PLUCKED.]

"'Here's the Pope in the pillory, and the Devil pelting him with priests.'"

At these words a kick from behind apprised the loyal champion that a very
ragged auditory, w